


Quiet

by anneapocalypse



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Pegging, Sexual Fantasy, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 03:26:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anneapocalypse/pseuds/anneapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>York takes some quiet time after a rough day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet

Shouldn’t have said it like that.

York sits heavily on the edge of his bunk and rubs his temples.

Hell of a day. They could all be forgiven for saying a thing or two they didn’t mean. Or didn’t mean the way it came out. And Wash is used to York ragging on him but still. Was a bad moment. Shouldn’t have said it like that.

Minute Wash opened his mouth, York could see things going south - no pun intended. Like seeing a train wreck happen in slow motion. Wash on a good day is just kind of awkward and cute at the same time. In a kid brother sort of way, in a ruffle-his-hair-and-call-him-sport kind of way. Wash on a bad day... train wreck material.

Today wasn’t a good day.

God, the way he’d sounded, though. _Sorry_. Head down, fucking _defeated_ like that, in a way that made York’s gut twist and made him want to grab Wash by the shoulders, shake him, shake some sense into him or some self-confidence or _something_ , because the only thing that twists him up worse than seeing someone throw a monkey wrench in the team is seeing a friend crumble that way. If he’d just push back, say _something_ , anything but that miserable _Sorry_.

_\--What is it you wish he would say?_

_I’m not sure, D._

York drops his face into his hands for a moment, takes a deep breath to pull his mind out of the spiral. It’s not a good place for him to go.

He’s gotta admit, Delta helps with that. Delta makes him feel... steadier. Helps him keep it all together in there. And that’s important, especially now. York’s pretty good at holding it all together on the outside, but sometimes under the helmet things can get a little complicated, that’s a fact. And the way things are going-

Well. Somebody’s gotta hold steady. And York’s generally of the opinion that as long as what’s going on in his head isn’t hurting anybody, it’s nothing he can’t handle.

For example, another guy might be unsettled to find himself contemplating the question of which of his two best friends he feels like beating off to today, but it’s been a long time since York bothered feeling guilty over a fantasy. It’s rare enough to get a moment to make use of one. The lack of privacy makes a guy get methodical about things, quick wanks in the shower, that sorta thing. Never know how long the room’s gonna stay empty. If you gotta keep things short, whatever works works.

After today, York’s feeling a little reckless. Not reckless like - god no, don’t even go there.

Just kind of fuck-all about things.

_I could use some quiet time, D, if that’s okay._

_\--Of course, York._

Even York hasn’t quite gotten used to doing _everything_ with another personality along for the ride. Delta gets that, though - he gets a lot about York, which is nice. If you’re going to have a constant companion, it’s good to have one who doesn’t get hurt feelings. Makes things easier. They came to an understanding pretty quickly that every now and then York needs some quiet time and Delta stays off the neural interface for a while. It works for them.

York starts snapping open the clasps on his chestpiece. They’re really right about the armor becoming like a second skin. Superlight, superflexible materials, the body temp regulation and vital monitors and all that, the more you wear it the more it starts to feel like just another part of your body - a much tougher and more efficient body, but still yours. After a point you feel really naked without the armor - and _actually_ being naked feels even more so.

He sets the pieces of his armor in a neat stack next to his bunk. It’s not like he’d be careless with custom-made irreplaceable military equipment anyway, but it’s the fact that D’s in there that always makes him handle his armor extra carefully - and another reason he never likes to be out of it for too long.

York peels off the synthetic undersuit less carefully before stretching out on his bunk and running both hands through his hair, feeling this morning’s gel crumbling between his fingers, and the cool of the climate-controlled air settling on his skin. He runs both hands down his torso, exhaling slowly, letting himself sink into the mattress, willing the day’s tension to leave his shoulders and back. As much as he needs the release, he’s not even half-hard and when he closes his eyes, all he can see is Wash’s eyes dropping dejectedly to the floor.

The way his chest constricts at the thought, he almost gives up right there.

Instead what he imagines is lifting that helmet off Wash’s face, cupping his jaw and meeting his warm gray eyes before he kisses him. Imagines how Wash would tense with surprise and then relax as he got into it, letting York unbuckle his armor piece by piece, down to the black undersuits, then gray boxer-briefs, then skin. Smoothing Wash’s hesitation with slow kisses and a hand against the small of his back and a pause to murmur _You sure about this?_ and waiting for Wash’s _Yeah_ before leaning back in.

That does it.

York rolls to the side enough to reach down and rummage in his open footlocker, digging out the small bottle he keeps tucked in a corner for moments he’s got time to indulge a little. Pops the cap and pours a little of the liquid into his palm, then settles back and wraps his dick in a slippery hand, stroking himself harder and thinking about working slicked fingers into Wash.

He'd open him slowly, press into him even slower, running a hand up the length of his spine, rubbing the back of Wash’s neck as he sank deep, dragging gentle fingers through his dark hair, and Wash would whimper but not with shame or defeat. He'd gasp York's name, whisper _more_ and York would give him more, give him whatever he asked for... he’d take good care of him.

He'd take such good care of him.

For no reason at all he thinks of Carolina.

The brush of her thick coppery hair against the crook of his neck. The hard curve of her jaw tucking in there, the low reassuring voice next to his ear. The Carolina he knew, who used to wait for him after training sessions and stay up too late talking about nothing - before Tex. Before the Sarcophagus. Before the board was all that mattered.

The Lina who'd always take care of him, just like he'd always take care of her.

York’s breath catches in his throat a little and he tightens his grip, pumping shallowly from the base and waiting for the persistent ache in his chest to subside.

They only had sex once, during orientation, back when everything was new and thrilling, back when it really felt like it was going to be a team thing, and they were all getting to know each other and going through tons of team-building exercises and - well, having _fun_. And it hadn't felt wrong at all, having some fun with each other on their off time.

Carolina had a hell of a body, thick strong thighs pinning him down, softness over hard stretches of muscle, the sprinkling of freckles over the broad plane of her breastbone, and god, he'd probably gotten a solid month of jerk fodder just out of how her nipples felt stiffening against his tongue. She fucked like she fought. Like she fought then. Straightforward, level, hands firm on his body, warm comfortable mouth with no hesitation and no hurry either. She rode him fast and smooth, guided his hands to get her off first - York liked that. Liked that a lot.

And they agreed it was just for fun, that was the great part. No messy feelings, no complications, agreed they’d stay friends and yeah they probably shouldn’t make a habit of this but once or twice didn’t hurt anybody. There didn’t ended up being a twice, and that was fine, that was... probably for the best, but he doesn’t need to think about that. Not right now.

Instead he thinks of her coming up behind him, her broad shoulders, the soft pressure of her breasts against his back, hands sliding up his chest to pinch both of his nipples between her thumb and the knuckle of her index finger... like he does to himself now with his free hand. A good-natured snicker, teasing him until he gave her a shudder and a shaky laugh. All with Wash still bent over in front of him, keening at his every movement, at his every touch.

York's been a Lucky before, pretty much his favorite thing to be honest - shame it's so hard to find an opportunity. Also he's only ever done it with guys - which is definitely great, but York's always been a fan of variety.

He hisses at the tension building in the pit of his gut, forces himself to slow his strokes a little, and feels his ass tighten at the thought. He's not much of a fingers guy, but he'd just about kill for one of his toys right now. Well, not _kill_... and he’s not feeling quite that ambitious today, honestly, but doesn’t mean he can’t think about it. York reaches down to curl his free hand under his balls, spreading his thighs a little wider, pressing fingertips against his perineum and massaging in circles as deep as the angle will let him, and letting out a heavy sigh of pleasure.

It’s a thought he’s had before, how good Carolina would look with a nylon mesh harness buckled around her hips, comfortably seating a silicone cock against her coarse tangle of red hair. Aquamarine silicone, it should be her color - just feels right that way. And it would feel extra right slicked up and pressing into him with Lina’s fingers spread over his hips, lips at his ear murmuring, _Relax, York. I got you._

And she’d go easy on him at first, thrusting gently and letting him adjust while he focused his own attention on Wash, pulling him back against his chest and rolling his hips with Lina’s rhythm, reaching around to stroke Wash’s cock in long smooth motions, kissing his neck and murmuring praise in his ear. Wrapped around him close enough to feel his body shudder with pleasure and surrender, feel his moans vibrate in his chest.

And Lina would speed up, gripping his hips hard enough to bruise and fucking him harder until he’d just be riding her thrusts driving him against Wash, both of them sweat-drenched and desperately close, but he’d make sure Wash got to come first and he’d work him through it, drawing out every last tremor until Wash went slack against him with exhaustion and only then would he let Carolina take him where she wanted him, shifting until she found just the right angle and driving relentlessly until...

York comes with a fractured gasp, hard enough to hit himself in the collarbone and leave a hot trail across his chest.

He takes a few minutes catching his breath, letting his mind go kind of blank and quiet as his racing heart slows down. Finally he rolls over with a half-groan to find a towel or stray t-shirt to clean up with. Time to shower and get back into the armor, back to D. ‘Bout as much quiet as he can afford for one day.


End file.
